Five Times Mark Stayed and One Time He Didn't
by hyacinthian
Summary: Mark's always been there for her. [MarkAddison]


i.

She's sitting at a table in the bar, downing tequila like it's nothing because she and Derek just broke up and oh my God how will she go on with life? He sits there, awkwardly trying to flirt with the single-looking girls standing by the pool table, but it's hard to pick up chicks when you've got a drunk weepy redhead clinging to you like peanut butter to jelly. She cries about Derek and about her career, and somewhere in there, she talks about their future kids. He wants to hit her, tell her that maybe Derek wasn't her soulmate, maybe it's somebody else, but that doesn't mean they still can't be friends. She falls on the floor and giggles; he holds her hair for her when she finds herself on the bathroom floor with her head in the toilet. Somehow, he manages to get two hours of sleep, even with Addison asleep on him.

ii.

It's pouring out—rain hammering steadily against awnings and roofs, and he's standing in the middle of it. He waits around the corner, singing the alphabet song, trying to avoid hearing what's going on. He hears her sobs, and he hears them yelling. He tries not to think about it. So he hums something and bounces on his toes until he hears the taxi door slam. He goes over to their brownstone and he knocks on the door. Addison opens the door immediately, thinking of Derek and she sees him instead. She's sobbing and angry and upset and blaming him. So he just pulls her to him and lets her beat her fists against his chest. He hates it when it rains.

iii.

He wakes up with the worst headache in the world, because _hello_—obviously, Seattle already has a grudge against him because he's from New York. Which, he might add, is the best city ever. Would it not be for the fact that Seattle has Addison, so it's a moot point. He's sort of half-sure that he's thinking in English, but he could be wrong. He thinks about New York and the dirty sidewalks and the trees and skyscrapers and all the angry people—he belongs there. And so does she. They should be together. But no, he had to come on a plane to Seattle, of all places, to try and get Addison to come back with him. Weeks pass and his hatred for Seattle has been replaced with other more minute details, like his hatred for Alex Karev and the fact that Addison's not going anywhere. So he stays (in the hotel room, just in case), for her, waiting. It's like a goddamned line out of Casablanca. Except it's _Seattle_.

iv.

She didn't listen to him. She never listens to him. Why? Why does no one ever listen to him? She walked into that room to save the woman, the patient…and she almost died herself. But he can't even think about that now. He can't even properly be angry at her because she's passed out and unconscious and pale. So he sits by her bed even though Karev keeps shooting him dirty glances. (He could take him on. Whatever.) And he holds her hand. Karev calls him a girl (which, obviously, takes one to know one) and the nurses call him sweet and he calls her stupid.

v.

He sits with her one day in church, a place he never expected to revisit and a place he never expected to find her. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, but he doesn't know what about. Karev again? Derek? Lost happiness? He tries not to speculate too much about it. He sits next to her in the pew and she doesn't say anything. She just stares up at the stained glass window, and darts her eyes to the crucifix, and looks thoughtful. He puts his hands on top of hers, but she pulls them away. She tells him she can't have children, and that the one she could've had was with a man she didn't want to have it with. He swallows his pride, sandwiches her hands between his, and prays for her. Because she's smart. Because she's beautiful. Because she deserves happiness. But mostly…Because she's Addison.

vi.

He tells Richard and he packs his bags and he does everything properly. Sometimes, it feels like his every move is scripted. He'll grin at the nurses every day like he's supposed to. He'll wait around for Addison like he's supposed to. (But not too long because he still has to prove he's the man-whore around here.) But he's tired. He's so tired of doing things like this. He didn't want to end up being _that guy_, being the guy everyone thought of as the wham-bam-thank you, ma'am asshole. She shows up at her room, down the hall, late at night, and calls his name. He turns to look at her, hair mussed, lips swollen, smiling. He turns back to his luggage.

"Hey," she says. "What's going on?"

"I'm going back." He's a bit satisfied to see the corners of her smile start to fall like his mother's failed soufflés.

"Back where?" She tries to make it sound casual, as she goes to slide the card key.

He rolls his eyes. "Back to New York." Her hand stills.

"Wh—Why are you going back to New York?" She doesn't want to admit that she's gotten used to him being here, doesn't want to admit that maybe she broke the sixty-days thing with Alex out of a weakness of feeling, doesn't want to admit that she has the sinking feeling that he lied to her. He laughs, a low, sensual chuckle that's barbed with the bitterness she was used to.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You've already been here so long."

"I know." He tips the bellboy, and she turns to face him.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Addie—_Addison_," he repeats, trying to chisel out distance between them. He needs to be more than away from her, he has to forget about her and let her live her life. "I came out here to get you to come back with me. And like you said, we tried. We tried and it didn't work out. So I'm going back."

"There's nothing there for you in New York."

"The _hospital _is there for me. My _friends _are there for me," he snaps. He pauses, and she can see him reeling in his anger, tension rolling in his shoulders. He heaves a sigh, and she thinks about how tired he sounds. "Look, you found yourself a whole new life in LA that you love. I loved my life in New York." The bellboy holds the elevator for him.

She feels strangely empty when he leaves without saying good-bye.


End file.
